


The Judgement of Helheim

by InFamousHero



Series: A War in Starlight [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Action, Catharsis, Drama, Fix-It, Gen, Past Abuse, Redemption, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InFamousHero/pseuds/InFamousHero
Summary: Odyn's arrogance and ego have long run unchecked. He casts himself as an undeserving victim of Helya's attacks and resentment, never admitting to the fact that Helheim and Helya herself are products of his disregard for others. But the truth has a way of getting out and in the end, his thoughtless cruelty will be the instrument of his own undoing...





	The Judgement of Helheim

**Author's Note:**

> What is with writers creating powerful, patriarchal figures who are given the charming "I'm really on your side" treatment by the narrative only when you look closer it turns out they have a daughter figure who they abused/violated who is understandably fucking PISSED about that and fighting back against them. But we're supposed to see her as... the bad one? And kill her? Gladly?? 
> 
> Nah.
> 
> Fuck that.

At any other time, Keleria might not have agreed to search for a far-too-curious scholar of the Kirin Tor who had wandered off along one of the more remote corners of the Broken Isles in search of some ancient puzzle box at a time of war. It was the sort of foolish fancy she expected from a mage, yet there she was, trekking the coastal lowlands of Highmountain, because there was little need of her elsewhere. Everyone was preparing for the second offensive on the Broken Shore, and no one wanted a repeat of the first disastrous effort.  _Her_  forces were ready, Thalyssra, Valtrois and Oculeth had Suramar well in hand—she had time to spare.

The fog banks were unusually thick, blanketing the marsh laden coastline in an otherwise impenetrable shroud. Unfortunately for some, Keleria’s eyes saw through such natural camouflage as easily as clear air, so it was with great surprise and unease that she rounded a bend in the cliffs only to walk in on a highly unexpected conference.

A sizzling black arrow was drawn and pointed at her throat before she could finish drawing her war blades and she froze, staring down Sylvanas Windrunner, Helya, and Eyir. The last made her blood run cold at the implications and she slowly let go of her weapons, holding up her open hands.

Helya was just as quick to call forth a swell of malevolent magic, snarling at the sight of her, but Sylvanas lowered her weapon with a curious look.

“Wait,” she said, stern and scrutinizing. Helya glared at her but she paid it no mind, toying with the unused arrow between her fingers, and Keleria frowned deeply. “I remember this one,” Sylvanas murmured, thoughtfully.

Helya bristled, spitting in Keleria’s direction. “As do I! It serves Odyn!”

Sylvanas cocked a brow but said nothing, returning her red gaze to Keleria. “You were willing to at least _try_ and quell the wolf’s zeal in Stormheim, but are you willing to listen here and now? This might be your only chance to rectify his mistake.”

One wrong move and she would be slain on the spot. Sylvanas may have relaxed but Helya certainly hadn’t, and Eyir seemed frozen into inaction. “You will need to explain this… situation,” Keleria said, “provided I can lower my hands?”

Sylvanas gave her a cold smile for that. “You may, and I _thank you_ for listening instead of blindly attacking.”

“What are you doing here and why is Eyir with you?”

“We are here because your master, Odyn, has taken a great many things that do not belong to him. He is a tyrant, and if you are half as honourable as your appear to be, you will listen to us.”

“Continue.”

Sylvanas glanced at Helya, who’s scowl only deepened, and she finally banished the darkness from her hands, crossing her arms to simply glare at Keleria instead. Satisfied, Sylvanas returned her attention to Keleria. “Long ago, when the Aspects were empowered to become defenders of our world, Odyn rejected the notion that dragons could be worth defenders. To show his distaste he separated from the rest of the titan watchers to create the Halls of Valour. He desired an army to serve him, crafted from the souls of dead warriors filling constructed bodies. For this, he needed collectors, those who would become undead in order to traverse the shadowlands and bring those souls to him. Helya, as his daughter, tried to convince him otherwise. He chose her to be the first and naturally, she did not _want_ to be a val’kyr. Odyn did not care, he forced the transformation upon her, binding her to his will, against hers.”

The words nearly sent her stumbling. Keleria blinked slowly, trying to process everything. “What… of the others?”

“Helya was the strongest of us,” said Eyir, straightening. “I… I can only speak freely for a brief window, she has shrouded us from his sight. Our wills were taken by Odyn, we are bound to him. The process has robbed most of their autonomy, they may seem as if they are fine, but are shells, responding to commands and desires, nothing more.”

“And the lantern?”

“It would have freed me. I was not fighting it because it was my desire. I fought it because Odyn wanted me to.”

She jerked violently and cradled her head, wings curving around her body. “Guh! I… I cannot stay here any longer or he will grow suspicious. Please. _Please_ find a way and soon.” With that, she flashed out of existence and Keleria tried to swallow the dryness on her tongue. There was a weight forming in her belly, cold and immovable. Merciful Goddess, if what they said was true—she shook her head. “If what you say is true…”

That brought a snarl out of Helya. “It _is!_ Do you seriously believe his minions don’t curate their history to his liking?”

Sylvanas spoke purposefully, “your name, kaldorei. I never caught it.”

“Keleria Sharparrow.”

“Very well. You know the truth of what happened at the Broken Shore, and you know exactly who started our little scuffle in Stormheim. I am only looking out for my people, as would you, were you in my position.”

“I would not go as far as you have.”

Another cold smile, this time it ran a finger of dread down her spine. “Bold words for one still living. You are not a grim reminder or a nightmare to be wiped away and forgotten. You will not understand until you experience undeath, but I have no intention of bringing you that experience. My point is that freeing the val’kyr will not only undo a great wrong, a daughter betrayed by the cruel, thoughtless creature who played at being her father.”

“It will earn you the favour of a people who can save yours.”

“Indeed.”

It was to balance on a razor wire, to consider the possibility that what they said was true. Greymane broke the lantern, to her knowledge Sylvanas had no other means to effecting Eyir or she would have used it, surely, and Keleria had seen no unfamiliar magic on the Banshee Queen or Eyir. If they were lying, they might have break the back of her own army to right that wrong, driving a dagger into the back of their war efforts. There was no reason she could conceive of for Sylvanas to want that, and yet…

Keleria took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Is there more than your word?”

Sylvanas looked at Helya, who looked stuck between fear and anger with a suddenness that struck Keleria deeply. “I… can share the moment of my transformation with you,” she said quietly, a wavering undercurrent plucking at her voice. It quickly hardened into a growl. “I refuse to open that memory again if you will not help us.”

Keleria squared her shoulders, steeling herself. “If it is as you say it is, I will help you.”

The weight of Helya’s stare was almost too much to bear for the long, painfully silent seconds that ticked by, until she reached out and touched the tip of a razor sharp nail to Keleria’s brow. It hit her like a deluge of ice down her back and she stumbled out of her body into lightless space.

“The Aspects have proven themselves just as capable as us! This plan of yours is needless, you must realise it comes from a place of arrogance, not wisdom!”

Helya, recognisable only by her voice, standing before Odyn, her face pleading, worried.

“How many times must I remind you that mortals cannot be relied on to carry such responsibility? My way can reshape them, give them a new perspective befitting our cause. It will make them worth of such a mantle and my val’kyr will be honoured champions!”

Odyn, no different to the way Keleria knew him, not really. He tried to lay a hand on Helya’s shoulder but she pushed it away, shaking her head. “Spirits without will of their own, sacrificed to make an army made only because you refuse to see that mortals can fight the corruption just as well as we can! The dragons are not animals, they are noble and courageous, they _earned_ this honour! We can work with them, show them how best to fight and prepare those who come next for the worst.”

He sighed deeply at her words, cradling her brow, a hand on his hip. “Helya, _please_ , don’t fool yourself into thinking that would work. We would be teaching ants how to fight the rain!” He looked at her directly, pressing his hands together as if to genuinely implore her. “Only a few are worth our attention as they are. The rest are clay to be shaped into a proper, fitting form, one _I_ will bestow upon them once their souls are brought to me.”

She shook her head again. “You will not do this. I cannot let you do this.”

Odyn pursed his lips, frowning deeply and finally placing a hand on Helya’s shoulder. He lifted the other to her chin. “Helya, my girl, you know you are my greatest champion and your bravery has been a source of immeasurable pride for me. I hope you understand how painful this is for me, and why it must be done.”

Keleria tried to move, to reach out, to warn the young Helya. Instinctive, reactive—ultimately useless. Helya screamed, unprepared for the blade of golden fire Odyn forced through her belly, impaling her through and through. The magic raced through her body like cracks in a vase and blazed bright, forcing Keleria to look away, and all at once the sound and light snapped into nothing. The waves came back, the cool fog, the distant howling of high winds off the cliff tops. She was in Highmountain again.

She lifted her gaze to Helya, took in the naked rage and pain in the fallen val’kyr’s eyes, and ground her teeth. “I will assemble my people.”

 

* * *

 

It did not take long for her eclectic forces to gather in the lower levels of Shal’aran. Almost all of the refugees had returned to Suramar to begin putting their lives back together. The place felt alarmingly empty now that it only housed the druids, and caretakers for the Arcandor.

She stood before her allies, hands behind her back, and wasted no more time. There was little point in being delicate.

“I have been deceived by Odyn and made complicit in a cycle of cruelty and abuse he seeks to end in his favour. _He_ is the one who created Helya, against her will, and more against theirs, turning the act of becoming an undead soul collector shackled to his command into an act of honoured ‘ascending.’ Those who ‘ascend’ are unaware their minds will be overturned until it is too late to fight.”

She watched the faces of those gathered, gauging reactions that ranged from disbelief to disgust and intrigue. “Great suffering has come of this. I know some of you, correctly, will argue much of it has been at Helya’s hands. None of this would have happened if not for Odyn’s betrayal, he began this cycle, and I think it only right that his victim be given a chance to atone for what her rage has wrought, and perhaps find solace in it. But I will not serve a tyrant who plays at being good, I will not serve a father who used his own child as a blunt instrument and tries to throw her aside for rebelling.”

To her great relief, a ripple nodding heads and murmured agreements passed through the crowd. Some were too deep in thought for it, but Keleria felt assured nonetheless. They would speak if they objected. “He has called for the  brave and powerful to enter the Halls of Valour and be tested in battle by him, so that they may be judged ready to end Helya and free _him_ from her curse. Will you aid me in disappointing him?”

There were cheers, raised fists, and a few chuckles at her flat question, but all voiced their agreement with varied intensity. They were ready to follow her wherever she needed them. All she needed to do now was tell Sylvanas that everything was in place.

 

* * *

 

 

They entered the Halls of Valour in a cascade of swirling gold, carried up the great bridge and heralded by kneeling val’kyr until they arrived at the entrance of Odyn’s chamber.

Keleria jogged to a halt from the momentum as her body rapidly shifted from energy to solid form and looked back, watching her allies materialise behind her. Once everyone was accounted for, she nodded to their foremost defenders, gesturing for them to fall in line behind her. Sal’rasi and Asharii instinctively flanked her and they entered Odyn’s chamber as one.

The warblades felt heavy on her back but she shrugged it off. One more battle, that was all.

Odyn rose from his throne, smiling far too eagerly and greeting them as allies, laying out the terms of his test.

“Shall we be lenient with these pets of yours, Odyn?” Hymdall rumbled, red gaze raking over them like a wolf ready to leap. No matter his service to her against the Legion, he was ultimately still bound to Odyn’s desires, and Odyn shook his head. “Hold nothing back!” he said, waving as if to dismiss the notion of restraint. “I must know they are ready for the task ahead!”

“So be it!” barked Hyrja, brandishing her javelin and flaring her wings, the image of a perfect val’kyr. “The unworthy shall be purged from the Halls of Valour!”

Again, Odyn smiled, and settled into his throne with a sweeping gesture. “The battle is yours to begin, good luck, Battlelord.”

The title stuck in her throat, sparking something hot and vicious inside her. “Split!”

Hymdall and Hyrja proved difficult but certainly not impossible to overcome. The clash of offensive and defensive magic turned Keleria’s vision into a kaleidoscope of colour and motion and she sank into a state of tranquil rage, shutting out everything that didn’t matter. Move, strike, seek, strike, strike, move, strike—Elune’s grace saved her more than once. Sal’rasi saved her more than that, weathering a blow from Hymdall that broke one of the spines protruding from her back. Sal’rasi split his jaw for it, knocking him flat.

His fall distracted Hyrja for only a few seconds and it was all they needed. Asharii and another Death Knight, an Orc by the name of Nokthal, swung hard into Hyrja’s ankles. At the same time, Drenzaxal, a draenei shaman, surged through the air on a bolt of lightning, swinging Doomhammer into the valkyr’s faceplate with a mighty clap of thunder. The shockwave knocked all of them down and Hyrja shrieked, flashing out of existence.

Keleria braced herself, glaring up at Odyn while her allies got to their feet. With a wave of his hand, Hymdall and Hryja reappeared in the balconies overlooking the arena, recovering. She narrowed her eyes and took several deep breaths, anticipation mounting.

He finally descended, touching down amongst them. “Well done… so far!” he crooned. “But I will judge for myself whether you are worthy!”

The rage poured out of her in a deep, hearty bellow, rousing similar cries from her companions. Magic flew again, a storm of noise and colours Keleria could scarce describe even if she wanted to with all her heart.  He did not hold back, time and again she felt something shift inside her, at first an ache, then a pinch, something sharp, something fractured--something torn. The others suffered too, and he tried to punish those who would keep them fighting, but Keleria wouldn’t allow it. Each time he reached out she would leap upon the outstretched limb and bite into it with her war blades, drawing his golden blood with every strike, until his favoured hand was a patchwork of slices and breaks.

More and more of his blood hit the floor and he scorned them, told them he was being too gentle. It only fuelled them, goaded them to keep fighting, keep going just a little bit longer until the time was exactly right.

Irate at being denied a kill, Odyn reached for Marahdo and the healing waters that vexed him, only for Sal’rasi to lunge directly at his face. Her form had swollen and stretched, and she clawed at his eyes, burning fel-green gashes into his metallic flesh. He cried out in genuine fury and grasped the demon hunter, ripping her from his bloodied features and throwing her into the ground hard enough to dent it. He lifted his foot and brought it down—a dome of arcane energy stopped him.

Keleria surged forward, slipping through the dome and pulling Sal’rasi’s battered body onto her back. She escaped just as the dome began to crack and staggered at the shockwave of Odyn’s foot meeting the ground behind her.

“ENOUGH!” Odyn bellowed, leaning against the rim of the arena.

Scowling, Keleria set Sal’rasi down with Marahdo and Antulo. She turned to glare up at the Titan Watcher inspecting his face, hand coming away coated in gold. “You… your worth is proven.”

She reached into a satchel on her hip, a weathered thing made of ancient wyrm-hide. “No, it is not. Not yet,” she said firmly, pulling out a horn of bone, saronite fittings and dark, unyielding ice. Odyn recognised it too late to stop her from blowing.

The very sound of the horn seemed to smother the light around them and it stung Keleria’s lips, instantly chilling her mouth and throat. A wave of nausea washed over her and she let it drop, watching as a great mass of shadows blossomed in the middle of the arena, growing in size.

For the first time since Keleria had met him, a look of honest fear dominated Odyn’s features.

Heyla rose from the gateway like a tower of obsidian, the shadow of wings long since broken unfurling from her body. She stepped into the Halls of Valour accompanied by a dozen Dark Rangers at her feet, and Lady Windrunner herself standing tall on the fallen Valkyr’s shoulder. All was stiflingly quiet, crushed into silence by the weight of Helya and Odyn’s stare.

He moved first. He lunged towards her, hands blazing with bronze fire, and Sylvanas leapt from Helya’s shoulder, firing arrows into the open wounds on his face like needles of shadow. Helya simply stepped aside and caught the Warchief in her outstretched palm, letting Odyn stumble by her, his face clutched in slick, cradling hands. He tripped and fell to the ground, snarling in pain, the dark arrows digging into his wounds like poison barbs.

He groaned and braced his hands against the ground, head hung low, liquid gold dripping down the contours of his ruined face. “Battlelord!” he roared, ragged and desperate. “You dare turn against me!?”

Keleria watched him struggle to get up, watched him grunt in pain when Helya pressed her heel into his shoulder, observed the strength seep from his body, and remained silent. He didn’t deserve the dignity of a response and she simply nodded at Helya. She nodded back and Sylvanas hopped down to join her dark rangers, content to observe for now.

Helya reached down and grabbed Odyn by the shoulders, forcefully turning him over onto his back. “I was too naive then,” she muttered. “I believed you would see reason if I only implored you ardently enough. I believed in you.”

Odyn heaved a strained, bitter laugh. “Traitors… all of you!”

Fury transformed Helya’s face from a mask of grim regret to incandescent hatred. “But I was a fool! You were always this way, always so sure of your own rightness! You made me a monster and broke my sisters because of it!”

“A fool—yes! Because you refused to see folly in lifting beasts above their station, I bestowed a _blessing_ on you and you rejected it you ungrateful—!”

She punched him before he could finish, smashing his head into the ground with the force of it. “Enough!” she bellowed. “You have done enough!” Lifting her hand, Helya encased it in white energy and plunged it into Odyn’s chest like a knife. He cried, grasping at her arm, golden magic coiling wildly out of the fatal wound, and she wrenched his heart out.

The explosion knocked all of them down, blinding most and ringing the ears of everyone. Keleria coughed, licking the blood from her lips as something sharp dragged inside her. She turned on her side, blinking through the haze of magic in the air to see Helya standing over an empty space on the ground where Odyn once lay. She blazed with completely different energy, clean, warm and vibrant gold, the trappings of her miserable, sea-bound realm completely shed from her appearance. She was as radiant as Eyir and looked down at herself, forming a suit of white and gold armour to complete the transformation.

Her white eyes slid over those gathered, the injured and near death, and lifted her hands. Energy poured into those in need, knitting flesh and bone until pain was a faded memory. Keleria coughed again as her airways cleared and slowly sat up, glancing over at Sal’rasi. The demon hunter was rubbing her brow, looking confused, but alive.

Healing finished, Helya’s palms blazed like stars and she swept them out to a distant chorus of shattering chains and crashing waves. A pulse shot through the air, bringing with it a warm, calming sensation of freedom and surety.

Helya lowered hands, staring at them. “The souls of Helheim are free,” she murmured, voice reverberating easily. “The realm is no more, and my sisters have their minds again. No more.” She turned her heavy gaze directly on Keleria. “I have done enough to justify my own death, but you helped me instead of obeying him. From this moment, I pledge all that I am to aiding you against the Legion. I will not rest until its threat is extinguished.”

Getting to her feet was easier than expected thanks to Helya’s burst of healing, and Keleria gathered her fallen war blades with a deep frown. “I cannot ignore what these represent.”

She didn’t need to elaborate for Helya to understand what she meant. “If you truly wish, I believe I know where to find you a suitable replacement. You know of the Lunar Crescents, of course.”

Keleria looked up in surprise. “Weapons wielded by the first mortal Night Warrior, she cut down enemies of Elune’s children like blades of grass. Many attempts were made to find them after the Sundering, to little success.”

Helya nodded. “Well, I may be able to help you. If you retrieve them, I can transfer the power of these blades to them.”

The thought of wielding such holy weapons nearly stole the strength from her legs. Keleria swallowed and bowed. “Thank you.”

Helya frowned and shook her head, chiding, “do not thank me. I am only doing what is necessary, you did not.”

Keleria looked up at her. “This _was_ necessary,” she said, her voice hardening. “I will not obey a tyrant or stand by when his lies unfold.”

A small but genuine smile turned Helya’s lips, and the very act nearly knocked Keleria over. “Then the Legion has more reason than ever to fear you.”

**Author's Note:**

> *stares Blizzard dead in the eye while signing Custody of Child form*


End file.
